


Distrust

by tired_saint



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game), 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game) RPF
Genre: Crossover, Danganronpa AU, Multi, Not Ship focused, Violence, all ships are referenced/implied, no beta we die like men, ships and characters may change, updates aren't scheduled sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tired_saint/pseuds/tired_saint
Summary: 'Where am I?'That was the first coherent thought that went through Emma Woods’ mind when she woke up. She wasn’t in her own bed, or anywhere else she recognized, for that matter. The room she was in was completely barren, save for the bed she was in for some reason, a door, a TV, and a camera, which only caused more questions to spring into her mind.Emma had heard about people getting kidnapped and having their organs harvested plenty of times, especially young women like herself, but her common sense didn’t stop her from approaching the door.Basically it's an IDV Danganronpa AU
Relationships: Aesop Carl | Embalmer/Joseph Desaulnier | Photographer, Emily Dyer | Doctor/Emma Woods | Gardener, William Ellis | Forward/Tracy Reznik | Mechanic
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	1. Prologue: The beginning of the end

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for checking out the first chapter of this roller coaster of a fic! To start off, this isn't necessarily a "true" Danganronpa AU. There is no despair, super high-school level talent, or Monokuma. Basically, I just thought it would be interesting if the characters from IDV were put into a Danganronpa-esque killing game. This is only based off of Danganronpa with the characters from IDV included that I thought would best fit into the AU. Secondly, this is not a ship central fic! The ships included in the tags are eventually going to pop up sometime, but they have a very minimal role in the story, so they won't be touched upon much. I just wanted to put that out there so nobody gets disappointed. Thirdly, I'm sorry to say, but the updates on this story won't be very consistent. This idea came into my head suddenly one night and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down, so that's basically what this is. I also just wanted to get that out of the way. Damn, this was pretty long. Sorry for the spiel, I hope you all enjoy reading!

_Where am I?_

That was the first coherent thought that went through Emma Woods’ mind when she woke up. She wasn’t in her own bed, or anywhere else she recognized, for that matter. The room she was in was completely barren, save for the bed she was in for some reason, a door, a TV, and a camera, which only caused more questions to spring into her mind. 

Emma had heard about people getting kidnapped and having their organs harvested plenty of times, especially young women like herself, but her common sense didn’t stop her from approaching the door. 

She wasn’t afraid of getting her organs harvested or some other equally horrifying thing happening to her right now. The only thing she cared about was finding out where the hell she was, and then promptly getting the hell out. 

_Like the door’s even going to be unlocked._

Much to Emma’s surprise, the door was unlocked. She tentatively grabbed the handle and twisted, pulling the door open only a fraction of an inch. Instead of the entrance to some crackhouse, Emma was greeted by a perfectly innocent-looking hallway. It had a rustic feel to it, with dark oak walls and a plush carpet. In all honesty, this was probably one of the nicest hallways Emma had ever seen in her life.

She took a step out of her room and onto the soft carpet of the hallway. There were several other doors in the hallway alongside Emma’s, to her surprise. Each of the rooms appeared to have a sign outside of it, with what appeared to be a name on it. To her horror, the room Emma was staying in had a sign with her name printed on it next to the door, too.

Why were there other people here, too? And more importantly, why did the people holding her here know her name? Shudders ran down her spine just from thinking about why she was being held captive. 

Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t really remember anything. She knew her name, that she was a gardener, and that she was 22 years old, but that was about it. The rest of her memories sat crammed in a jar on the top shelf of a mental dresser; just barely too high for her to reach.

With a sigh, Emma began to walk down the hallway in search of other people. Now that she knew that she wasn’t alone, she wasn’t as afraid. She was still pretty terrified, but to her knowledge people usually didn’t get their organs harvested in big groups.

The hallway split off and led to a staircase just a few doors down from Emma’s room. She began to walk up the staircase, but just as she reached the second floor, a large gate stopped her from entering. She couldn’t see any locks on the gate, but it was held fast to the floor and wouldn’t budge. She sighed again and made her way back down the stairs. At the very least, she knew that there wasn’t anybody hiding upstairs. The only place the other people could have gone was down the hallway to the right. 

As Emma made her way down the hallway she began to hear voices. They didn’t sound hostile or scared, but they didn’t necessarily sound happy, either. Before she could think about the voices for much longer, she was met with a scene that made her jaw drop.

The hallway led down to a dining room slash ballroom combination, which held almost a dozen other people. The voices she had heard before most likely belonged to a man in a colorful leotard and a burly man in what looked to be football gear, who were discussing something rather loudly.

“Hey, look!” The man in the sports attire stopped his conversation to point to Emma, who was still standing at the front of the room slack-jawed. “There’s another one!”

Suddenly eleven pairs of eyes turned to look at the gardener, which was about ten too many pairs of eyes for her liking. 

“Um...where am I?” She asked.

“We don’t know!” The man in the leotard answered cheerfully. He had chin-length unruly blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Despite his cheerful demeanor and friendly attitude, Emma couldn’t help but be suspicious of him. 

“We all woke up in a bedroom and then came out here!” This time it was the burly man who spoke. He too seemed friendly, but there was something about him that unnerved Emma. He was also huge, at least 190cm tall and all muscle. 

“Well...do you know why we’re here?” Maybe this time she would get an answer that actually contained useful information.

“Nope!” 

“Will, Mike, let me talk to her.” 

Emma turned around towards the source of the voice. A young woman, maybe a couple years older than herself, began walking towards them. She was dressed in a nurse’s uniform and carried a syringe. 

“We all woke up here and don’t know where we are. Just like you, I would assume.” 

Emma nodded in agreement with the woman. She was a few inches shorter than Emma but held a quiet air of authority about her. 

“Most importantly, none of us can remember anything. Can you?”

“Nothing at all, besides my name.”

“I see. It’s the same for the rest of us.” She gestured to the rest of the people in the ballroom, who had all begun to nod in agreement. “My name is Emily Dyer.” 

Emma gingerly grabbed Emily’s outstretched hand and shook it. Just like the football player and the man in the leotard, Emma was immediately suspicious of her. Strangely, Emma felt like she had seen this woman before. 

“Emma Woods,” she responded. “Are you a nurse?” 

“I’m a doctor. Although my uniform often confuses people.” Emily subconsciously reached for her syringe as she introduced herself. “This is Will, and this is Mike. The rest can introduce themselves to you.”

“Heya! I’m Mike Morton,” the man in the leotard said. “I’m an acrobat if you were wondering. That’s why I’m wearing this.” He gestured to his colorful leotard and grinned. 

“My name’s William Ellis. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” William placed a huge hand on Emma’s shoulder as he introduced himself. “If you didn’t know, I invented rugby. It’s getting pretty popular.”

_Rugby? What the hell?_

William didn’t look too much older than Emma, so she had a hard time believing he had invented anything. 

“I’m Martha, it’s nice to meet you.” Another woman approached her, although this time she appeared to be younger than Emma. She smiled warmly, but Emma’s gaze drifted to Martha’s hip, where a pistol sat in its holster.

_Did everyone else bring some kind of weapon?_

The rest of the people in the room seemed nice, if not a bit eccentric. She was introduced to Aesop Carl, a standoffish embalmer, a man who simply introduced himself as Antonio, who was apparently a famous violinist, a dancer named Margaretha Zelle, a timid mechanic named Tracy, and the rest of the group, who’s names she couldn’t remember.

The only people that stood out to her were two men named Freddy and Kreacher. As soon as the two men introduced themselves, Emma immediately disliked them. 

Kreacher Pierson was a self-proclaimed philanthropist, despite looking like he lived in squalor. Immediately after Emma introduced herself to him, he practically devoured her body with his eyes, taking in every last detail about her. 

“Why don’t you let Kreacher show you around here, hm? A pretty girl like yourself shouldn’t have to explore new places alone.”

Emma curled her lip in disgust. If she could help it, she wouldn’t be around this man any longer than absolutely necessary. Just like with the doctor, Emma felt like she had seen this man before somewhere. If only she could remember where. 

“So you’re the new arrival,” a male voice behind her mused. His voice was nasally and shrill and immediately annoyed Emma.

“I suppose so.”

“My name is Freddy Reily, I’m pleased to meet your acquaintance.” 

Freddy was a relatively short man, only a few inches taller than Emma, and rather weaselly in appearance. Two jarring buck teeth protruded from his mouth, and round glasses sat atop his nose in front of two beady eyes. He looked to be the opposite of Kreacher in almost every way; Freddy was clearly a man of wealth. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Reily,” Emma replied politely. 

Freddy narrowed his eyes and looked at Emma up and down. “I believe we’ve met before.”

“I can’t say I remember meeting you, Mr. Reily, I apologize.”

“That’s not a surprise. I used to know your father. Leo Beck, right?”

“How did you know my father?” she asked. A memory of her laughing with her father as a little girl suddenly came back to her.

“You must have been just a little girl when I knew him. We were...business partners.”

“What business were you--”

“Another person!” 

Emma’s question was cut off by William’s yelling and pointing. In fact, not one, but two people had just stepped into the ballroom. They were both muttering to each other and kept their heads down. 

“ _Mon Dieu, regarde tous ces gens…_ ” The man was short and slender with platinum blond hair and piercing blue eyes, unlike Mike’s friendly ones from earlier. A camera was slung around his neck and he held a stack of already developed photographs. 

“ _J_ _e sais, et ils n'ont pas l'air très sympa non plJs_ _. Regarde, ce gars est immense!_ ” the woman responded. She was the same height as the man and appeared to be carrying a bottle of perfume. 

“Do you think they speak English?” William whisper-yelled. 

“Don’t worry Will, I got this. I took a year of French back in school,” Mike whisper-yelled back. “Ahem! _Salut! Mon nom est Mike. Puis-je caresser votre chien s'il vous plaît?_ ” He extended an arm out to the woman and flashed her a blinding smile.

The woman attempted to cover her smirk with her hand, but the man made no attempt to. He laughed uproariously as Mike’s smile wavered. 

“Of course we can speak English!” she answered in a thick French accent. “My name is Vera Nair, I’m from Grasse. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“I’m Joseph Desaulniers, pleased to make your acquaintance,” Joseph replied, in an equally thick accent. 

“Well then, how many of us in total are there now?” William asked.

“Uh, let’s see…” Mike stood on his tip-toes and began to count the heads in the room. “...11, 12, 13...14. 14 people so far!” 

“How many more people are coming?” Martha asked. 

“Well, if any of you had bothered to look around and think for yourselves, you’d have noticed that there are 16 chairs at the dining table,” Freddy drawled. “Therefore, two more people are left.”

Much to Emma’s chagrin, Freddy was right. 16 chairs sat at the table, along with 16 placemats. Like the signs in the hallway, each placemat had a name on it, including Emma’s. Taking a closer look, Emma realized that her name wasn’t the only thing printed on the placemat. Beneath her name, “Gardener” was written on the placemat in neat script. 

_How did I not notice this before? It’s been right here this whole time._

All around her the rest of the people in the ballroom were beginning to approach their placemats. To her right, Emily sat down and offered her a kind smile. Nobody else had sat to Emma’s left, and the seat reading “Magician” was left empty for the time being. 

“So...should we just wait here for the other two to show up?” William was seated across the table to Emma’s right and was making his chair look tiny. 

“Wh-what if this is a trap? Maybe whoever has us stuck in here wants us to sit on these chairs, and then there’ll be some kind of trap door, and--”

“I think we’re alright, Tracy, I’m sure there’s no need to worry that much about some chairs,” William assured, resting his hand on Tracy’s arm. She blushed and made a small squeak of embarrassment at the contact, but made no effort to move his hand away.

Just then another man wandered into the dining hall, with an annoyed look in his eyes. “So this is where the voices have been coming from,” he muttered. The newcomer looked just like Kreacher but was dressed like he was about to perform a show at a bar. 

“Alright!” Mike exclaimed. “Just one more person left! Is your name either Demi Bourbon or Servais LeRoy, by any chance?”

“I’m Servais,” he responded, his voice gruff. “How do you people know my name?”

“It’s written right here!” Mike reached across the table to point towards Servais’ placemat and chair. 

_So this is the magician, huh? Well, he certainly does look like one._

“Hmph,” Servais grunted and crossed his arms but didn’t seem to have any questions for the group. He silently sat down next to Emma and took in the rest of his surroundings. 

After what seemed like hours of waiting, Demi finally waltzed into the ballroom. 

“What’re you all doing here?”

“Are you Demi Bourbon?” Mike asked. Just a few moments ago it seemed like he had fallen asleep, but he perked right up when Demi walked in.

“Yeah, that’s me. But where the hell am I?” She narrowed her eyes and scanned everyone’s face at the dining table. “And who the hell are you all, anyway? I can’t remember a damn thing.”

“We’ve all experienced the same thing, Ms. Bourbon,” Emily answered. “None of us know why we’re here, and we can’t remember anything, either.”

“Well, then...just Demi’s fine. None of that ‘Miss’ nonsense.” Demi seemed satisfied with Emily’s answer and made her way toward her chair. It was located to the left of Mike’s, and he was pointing furiously at it with a friendly smile on his face. 

“Goodness, it seems that this group has caught on faster than expected. What a bright group!” Suddenly a monitor at the end of the room lit up, and a woman appeared on the screen. “Well, I’m sure you all must have questions for me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Nightingale gives out some important information, keys are distributed, and chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and thanks for reading the second chapter! I hope it's up to everyone's standards. Thank you all for being patient with my updating and leaving comments and kudos on the last chapter, it means a lot! Also, I'm trying to think of a better title than just "Identity V x Danganronpa," because imo, that's kind of boring. So please leave ideas in the comments if you have any!

“Who the hell are you?” William demanded furiously at the woman on the screen.

“You can call me Miss Nightingale,” she replied placatingly. “I’ll be in charge around here.”

“What do you mean ‘in charge around here’?” Freddy asked with a sneer. “We’re all adults, after all. And you’re on a monitor! It’s not like you can do anything to us.”

The corners of Miss Nightingale's mouth upturned into a smirk beneath the feathery mask she was wearing. “ _Au contraire_ , Mr. Reily.”

Suddenly Freddy’s arms were strapped to the arms of the chair tightly, and he was bound fast to the back of the chair with what looked like barbed wire.

“What in the-- _dammit!_ ” As Freddy thrashed in his chair he caught his skin on the barbed wire, causing little crimson stains to mar the chest of his white dress-shirt. 

Several gasps and utterances sounded from the table. Everyone simultaneously shifted in their seats, as if trying to find a way to disable the bondage. 

“I told you all!” Tracy shouted. She was the only one at the table that didn’t look horrified. If anything, she looked proud. “I-I told you all that these chairs were a trap! But none of you wanted to listen to me!”

“Now, this isn’t meant to be a trap, Ms. Reznik. It’s merely a precaution put into place to prevent any violent actions from taking place. Not that it’ll matter in the end, anyway.” 

“H-Hey! You still haven’t told us why we’re here.” Mike’s usual upbeat and friendly demeanor had been replaced with one of pure fear. 

“Oh, of course! That’s the most important part, after all.” Miss Nightingale laughed beneath her mask darkly. “Although the 16 of you may look very different at first glance, you’re all the same when you look just a bit beneath the surface. All of you want something so badly that you’d kill for it.”

More gasps sounded from the table. Emma screwed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose, deep in thought. Now that she thought about it, she _did_ want something. But what was it, again..?

“That is the real reason the 16 of you are here. The goal of this game is quite simple: all you must do is kill one of your fellow survivors and get away with it. That’s all! You won’t have to worry about any charges or other silly things like that, and then you’ll get your prize. Whatever you want most will be yours afterwards!”

“N-Now wait just a minute!” William stood and slammed his fist on the table. “I’m not going to kill anyone here! I’ve just met them, but they’re my friends! That’d be wrong!”

“That’s what they all say at first, you know,” Miss Nightingale responded with a laugh. “That’s fine by me. _You_ don’t have to kill anyone. Spend the rest of your life rotting away here, for all I care. But in the end, one of you will snap. And when one of you starts, it can’t be stopped. Not until there’s only one of you left.”

“You can’t keep us locked up in here against our will!” Joseph protested from the head of the table. “My lawyer will be hearing about this! It’s inhumane!”

“Oh, but you aren’t being held here against your will. Each of you received an invitation and accepted it. There were others that received an invitation, too, but you 16 were the first to accept. All of you came here willingly,” Miss Nightingale answered with glee. 

“If that’s that case, then why can’t we remember anything?” Vera asked.

“Upon your arrival at this manor, your memories were wiped so that you wouldn't remember anything, besides the basic facts about yourself,” Miss Nightingale explained. “Your memories will return...eventually. My cohorts and I have found that this can make the game more interesting.”

“Now, aside from the rules of our game, there is some information you all should know. There is a kitchen here that will be open from 8:00-10:00am, 12:00-2:00pm, and 7:00-9:00pm. Meals aren’t mandatory, of course, but it would be a shame if any of our participants went hungry. Cameras are in each room, besides the bathrooms. In each room there is something that belongs to each of the survivors. I see that some of you have already taken your items into possession. For those of you that haven’t, I’d recommend going back to your rooms to collect it after this debriefing. Also in your room is a diary. Participants _must_ write in them daily, or face a punishment. Finally, there is something important under each of your place mats.”

Emma picked up her place mat to see two silver keys, both identical, save for one feature. 

“One of these keys is a key to your own room, and the other is a key to one random participant’s room. You must keep your own key, but you are free to do what you please with the other. That’s all to report for now, but daily reports will be broadcast to your rooms at 7:00am.”

With that, the TV clicked off, and the survivors breathed a collective sigh of relief. Freddy’s restraints came undone and he quickly reached under his placemat for his keys.

Emma grabbed her first key and turned it over. It was almost completely plain except for the word “Gardener,” which was engraved on the side. Her second key was the exact same, but instead of Gardener, the word “Explorer” was engraved on it.

_Explorer..? Who’s the explorer?_

“Ah...Ahem, everybody?” Mike cleared his throat and stood up on the rigged chair. “Miss Nightingale said we were free to do whatever we wanted with the second key, so...I think we should just give the copy to its original owner.”

Most of the other survivors nodded and made noncommittal grunts in agreement, but Freddy seemed to have other ideas. 

“Why should I have to give up my second key? Maybe I _want_ to go into the…’Doctor’s’ room.”

Emma could see Emily’s eyes widen out of her peripheral vision.

“W-well, Mr. Reily, I’m sure that there’s nothing in there that would interest you,” she stuttered.

“Yeah! A man shouldn’t be peeping around in a girl’s room, anyway!” William supplemented. 

“Even so,” Freddy began, “It’s _my key_ , and Miss Nightingale said I get to do what I want with it. I don’t want to give it away.” For a brief moment pure malice flashed through his eyes, and Emma was genuinely afraid of him. He seemed like the type of man who was cunning and was determined to get what he wanted, no matter the price.

“Alright, alright!” Martha waved her arms in the air to get the group’s attention. Despite being one of the youngest looking participants in the game, she seemed like one of the most mature. “It’s gotten really late, and nothing’s going to get settled if everyone’s cranky and tired. How about we discuss it over breakfast? For now, those who want to exchange their keys go on ahead, and those who don’t, just go back to your rooms.” 

A few murmurs of complaint rippled through the group, but eventually Freddy, Kreacher, Margaretha, and Servais headed back to their rooms without exchanging their keys. The rest of the survivors got up from their seats and began to intermingle.

“Um...is anyone here an explorer?” Emma asked timidly. 

She got up from her chair and began to walk around the perimeter of the table, searching for the explorer. 

“Uh...sir?” Emma gently prodded the shoulder of a sleeping Kurt Frank. “You’re the explorer, right?”

“Wha--oh! You’re just a kid. You had me worried there for a second.” Kurt smiled and yawned. “What can I do for you?”

_Has this man not been listening to anything anyone said at_ all _?_

“This is your key, isn’t it?” Emma extended the key to Kurt with a gloved hand. “Don’t you want it?”

“But I’ve already got my key here,” Kurt said. “I don’t need another one.”

“Well, yeah. But...don’t you not want me to have your key?” At this point Emma was genuinely baffled. Kurt didn’t seem much older than 40, so there was no way he could’ve gone senile already, right?

“Oh no, I trust you.” Kurt smiled again and pushed his key back towards Emma. “You should keep it. I’ll just lose it.”

“But, sir…”

“Thanks anyways, Missy! I’ve got to get back to my room, I think I left something in there…” Kurt trailed off and quickly left the ballroom with his set of keys and place mat.

After a few more minutes of wandering around the table, Emma ran into Antonio, who had her key. He was more than willing to give Emma her key, but something about him really creeped her out, so she kept the conversation to a minimum. 

It seemed like everything that needed to be done had been taken care of for now, so Emma decided to head back to her room as soon as possible. She doubted that she would be able to get any sleep in; given that she had just woken up from some sort of slumber only an hour or so ago, and the fact that she was currently in an unfamiliar environment. Now that she thought about it, she had always been like this, ever since she was a little. A memory of a desolate room with only a bed in it flashed through her mind. It was dark, and she was scared. Where was her dad? Where was anybody? How much longer would she be alone? 

By the time her memory passed, Emma was already outside of her room. She leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, desperate to catch her breath. Her heart was like a jackhammer in her chest, hammering away at her lungs and throat. 

“Emma? Are you alright?” 

When Emma opened her eyes, Emily stood in front of her, a worried expression on her face. 

“You look sick. Do I need to call for anyone?” She asked.

“Oh, no no! I’m sorry, I just needed a moment to catch my breath,” Emma assured. “This whole ordeal has been...a lot to deal with.”

“Well, as long as you’re feeling fine, there’s nothing I can do. I am a doctor, after all. Old habits die hard,” Emily said, and rested a gloved hand on Emma’s forearm. “Were you able to exchange your key?”

“I was able to get mine back, but...for some reason, Kurt had me keep his key.”

“That’s a bit strange.” Emily furrowed her brow and ran a finger over the engraved letters on her key.

“It was! And I know I shouldn’t say this, but well, you’re a doctor, so…” Emma trailed off, biting her lip. “I...I don’t think he’s exactly right in the head, if you know what I mean.” 

“Well...I’ll try talking to him tomorrow. For now, you should try to get some sleep, Ms. Woods,” Emily suggested. “And if you ever feel a bit under the weather, don’t hesitate to come see me. I’m just next door.”

Emma smiled to herself and entered her room. At least there was someone here that she could talk to. As she took another step towards her bed, she noticed something she hadn’t seen the first time she was in her room. 

Just below the TV monitor on her dresser sat a small forest green toolbox. ...This was..! She’d seen this toolbox before, she knew it! But where? She took a few steps towards the dresser and picked the toolbox up by the handle. There was a definite weight to it, and an assortment of tools sat inside the box. A wrench, hammer, screwdriver, and a dozen nails were inside, along with a handwritten note taped to the top.

_My dearest Lisa,_

_I hope you know how much it hurts me to leave you. I will always love you, no matter the distance. Please learn how to take care of yourself, for my sake. Remember, to make an omelette, you’ll always have to crack a few eggs._

_Love, Father_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma's first morning in the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuhhh...ngl guys the first part of this chapter is pretty self-indulgent. i pretty much just wanted an excuse to write e-sports and emaemi so hope yall enjoyed that. i promise it's going to get more interesting soon though! the actual danganronpa games are pretty slow-paced themselves, so i didn't want to rush anything. as always, thanks for reading! :)

“Good morning, survivors!” 

“Ugh…” Emma’s television flickered to life promptly at 7:00 am with a soft hum.

“I hope you all had a restful first night, because it might’ve been someone’s last!” Miss Nightingale gleefully reported from the screen. 

Emma groaned again and groggily got out from her bed. It was way too early for anyone to be this cheery. She couldn’t remember falling asleep last night, or even changing into her pajamas. 

“The kitchen will be opened up in an hour, but in the meantime, you all are free to do as you’d like.” The TV turned off and Emma was once more in peaceful silence. She tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. Miss Nightingale’s ominous words raced through her mind on repeat. 

_Someone’s last night?_

Of course Emma knew what Miss Nightingale was referring to, but could someone really crack under the pressure that quickly? She wondered how Emily was feeling right now, especially since Freddy had kept her room key. Ruminating over it wouldn’t do her any good now, though, so she resolved that she’d see how Emily was doing at breakfast. In the meantime, Emma decided to get dressed and check out the ballroom. She wouldn’t be able to eat breakfast yet, but she might be able to inspect the room a bit more thoroughly by herself. 

Much to Emma’s surprise, William and Tracy were already in the dining room upon her arrival. William was seated at one of the dining room chairs next to Tracy, who was knelt on the ground looking closely at one of the chairs.

“Tracy? What are you doing?”

“I-I just wanted to inspect the chairs,” she replied. “I bet I could figure out how they worked if I just checked them out long enough.” 

“And she wanted me to come with her!” William added from his seat at the table. 

“I did not!” Tracy protested. “You offered to come with me!”

“Actually, I came down here to do the same thing,” Emma admitted. “I figured I could find some clues about who’s keeping us here...or why we’re being kept here, specifically.”

“Do you want me to come and look around with you?” William asked. “Tracy’s pretty much been focused on these chairs, and she won’t let me help her with them.”

“Sure,” Emma replied with a smile. Although she was almost sure that William wouldn’t be able to find much more than Emma could on her own, the company would be nice. Whenever William was around he seemed to be able to magically lift people’s spirits.

For the next hour, the two survivors searched the room in relative silence. To her disbelief, Emma couldn’t find anything that would offer any answers to her questions. The only new development was the addition of the kitchen door located to the back of the dining room. Otherwise, the room was completely innocuous; not a hair was out of place.

“Dammit!” 

Tracy peeked up from beneath the table as William groaned. “I take it you two weren’t able to find anything?”

“It’s like this room was gone through with a fine-tooth comb!” he cried. “There’s nothing!”

“Well, whoever has us trapped here probably wouldn’t want us to find any evidence.”

Emma nodded in agreement with Tracy and returned her attention to a bookshelf at the back of the room. There were dozens of books on it, and she could have spent hours--

“I’m surprised you meatheads are already awake,” a familiar voice from the back of the room sneered. None other than Freddy Reily stood in the entrance to the ballroom, a look of contempt plastered on his face. 

“Excuse me!” William gasped.

“Oh, please. Don’t act offended.” Freddy strode into the ballroom and rolled his bleary eyes. “While you all were sniffing around in here, did you see a coffee machine, by any chance?” 

“Th-there’s one in the kitchen. It’s behind the dining table,” Tracy stuttered

“I almost didn’t notice you down there, Reznik,” he said, walking to the kitchen. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be messing with those chairs.” Freddy subconsciously placed a hand over his chest, as if remembering the events of last night. 

“Of c-course!” 

Tracy quickly sunk back underneath the table with a squeak. Emma had noticed that Tracy was already a pretty jittery woman, but Freddy’s presence seemed to only exacerbate her nervousness. She couldn’t blame her, though. Freddy made Emma nervous as well, and she had tried her best to avoid him while he was in the dining room. 

“God, I really hate that guy,” William muttered under his breath.

Emma nodded in agreement. She had returned her focus back to the bookshelf, but had lost her train of thought and was now just staring at it blankly. 

Most of the other survivors began to slowly trickle into the dining room shortly after. With the notable exception of Servais, Demi, Kreacher, and Vera, everyone was present for breakfast almost exactly at 8 o’clock. 

“How did you sleep last night, Emily?” Emma quickly sought out the doctor as the rest of the survivors as they entered the room. 

“I slept alright,” Emily answered. “How about you? Are you feeling any better? Your complexion is much more even today.”

Emma gave the doctor a small nod as she felt her face turn red. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had fussed over her like this. Well, she couldn’t really remember anything right now, but still. It was nice to be worried about.

“We should probably get something to eat.” Emily led Emma towards the back of the dining room, where the door to the kitchen was located. She had been too busy inspecting the ballroom with William to look inside the kitchen, despite how excited she was to see what food it had in it. 

Truthfully Emma wasn’t much of a breakfast person, but she hadn’t eaten dinner last night so she was practically famished. The rest of the survivors must have felt the same way too, as the dining room was silent except for the sounds of them preparing their breakfast.

“They’ve got polenta!” Emily excitedly reached for a bag of what looked like yellow cornstarch that was sitting at the top of a cupboard.

“Polenta..?”

“Let me make you some! I promise it tastes good.”

“You don’t have to Emily, I can—“

“Please, I insist.”

“Well, if you insist…” Emma once again felt her cheeks turn red after being taken care of by the older woman. Emma was a grown-ass 22-year-old woman, for god’s sake! She could take care of herself! At least, that’s what she told herself. She just couldn’t refuse when Emily looked at her like that, though, with nothing but kindness in her eyes. 

“Take a seat at the dining table, I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready,” Emily instructed.

Emma obliged and squeezed out of the cramped kitchen. She could see how this living arrangement could quickly turn into a problem. Aesop was becoming increasingly impatient while waiting behind Margaretha as she poured a bowl of cereal, and William was holding an apple above his head while laughing at an antagonized Tracy, just to name a few examples of the current discord in the kitchen. Freddy for once just watched the chaos and drank his mug of black coffee with a smug look on his face. 

A few minutes later, most of the survivors had made their breakfast and settled down at the table. Emily walked out of the kitchen with two bowls of what looked almost like scrambled eggs from a distance.

“Is this the...uh...palenduh?”

Emily laughed softly and set the bowl in front of Emma.

“Mmm-hm. Here,” she paused and placed some honey, strawberries, cinnamon, and sugar in front of Emma. “If you’d like, you can add some of these into it.”

Emma nodded while hesitantly reaching for her spoon. The dish before her certainly didn’t look toxic or emit any foreboding odor, but one could never be too sure, especially in an unfamiliar environment. She slowly raised her spoon up to her lips, swallowed, and...nothing happened. The polenta itself was extremely bland, almost like she was chewing on hot cardboard. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, just unexpected. 

“Did you just take a bite plain?” Emily asked upon noticing Emma’s confused expression. 

“Was I not supposed to?” 

“Well, I suppose that there’s no wrong way to eat polenta, but...isn’t it too bland?”

Emma narrowed her eyes and took a closer look at how Emily had prepared her own dish. Upon closer inspection, Emma could see that Emily’s polenta was almost covered in cinnamon and honey. She was sure that it tasted good, but she certainly wouldn’t expect any doctor to eat that.

“I’ve always had a bad sweet tooth, ever since I was young,” Emily admitted sheepishly, as if she could read the gardener’s mind. “You can try some of my polenta to see if you like it if you want.”

Reaching over Emily’s plate with her spoon, Emma silently scooped a spoonful of the sugary breakfast into her mouth. It was a little sweet for her liking but good nonetheless. 

“What do you think? Is it not so bad after all?”

“It’s good! Almost like eating dessert for breakfast.”

Emily let out another soft laugh. “Try putting some sugar in it, or some strawberries.”

Emma did as she was told and placed some sliced strawberries into her polenta, along with a heaping dose of sugar. “Much better.”

“Attention, everyone!” Martha had climbed onto one of the dining chairs to address everyone seated at the table. 

Twelve pairs of eyes turned to stare at her all at once. 

“This better be good,” Freddy grumbled under his breath.

“Last night we said that we should debate whether or not to give back the second key that was given to us to its natural owner. I think that there’s no better time than now to discuss it, seeing as everyone has had a good night’s sleep and a proper breakfast!”

“Not everyone is here, Martha,” Joseph pointed out dryly. 

“And half of the people who kept both keys aren’t even here!” William interjected. 

“Well, Freddy’s here! And Margaretha,” Tracy argued.

Murmurs and whispers rippled throughout the table. Everyone switched their attention from Martha to glare at Freddy and Margaretha. 

“Martha and Tracy are right,” Mike said, once again climbing onto his chair to join Martha. “Mostly everyone is here, and I think it might be best if we took care of this issue here and now.” 

“Should I get the rest of them up?” William asked.

“What if...what if someone’s already dead?” A voice from the table whispered.

Emma wasn’t exactly sure who said it, but suddenly everyone was in a panic, herself included. She thought back to what Miss Nightingale had said earlier, about it being someone’s last night. Her stomach began to sink, and her appetite was suddenly gone. 

“I-I don’t know if we should go to their rooms, but if it’ll stop this panic, then…” Mike trailed off, screwing his eyes shut. 

“Now wait just a minute!” Martha yelled, taking back everyone’s attention yet again. “Have some more faith in our friends! Do you really think anyone would have buckled under the pressure so easily? I’m sure that no one’s dead!” 

Uneasy glances were exchanged at the table, but Martha’s words seemed to quell the rapidly-increasing panic for at least a moment.

“I’m sure if we just go to their rooms, we’ll find them all just asleep.”

“Well then, uh...how about the men go see how Kreacher and Servais are doing, and all the women go check on Vera and Demi?” Mike suggested. 

Mike and Martha dismounted their respective chairs and moved to the front of the room. 

“If you’re coming with us, join us at the front of the room!”

Everyone quickly moved to the front of the room with Martha and Mike, save for one person. Aesop remained seated in his chair, picking at a slice of burned toast. 

“Aesop? What are you doing?” Mike asked.

“Whether someone is alive or has died, I don’t really care either way,” he replied, deadpan and expressionless. “Eventually, there’s only going to be one of us left. We’ve got to start dying sooner or later.”

The silence that followed Aesop’s statement was deafening. Technically he was right, wasn’t he? Miss Nightingale has clearly alluded to the fact that they would be stuck in here until there was only one person remaining. Despite the valiant attempts of Martha and Mike to convince them otherwise, Emma was almost sure that someone would be killed sooner or later. It was only a matter of time. 

Mike shuffled his feet uncomfortably and wrung out his fingers. “Well…”

“We can’t dwell on that!” Martha exclaimed, a resolute look in her eyes. “If we want to get out of here, we’ve got to keep moving forward!”

This time, Martha’s words of motivation did little to pick up everyone’s spirits.

“Aesop may have a point, but Martha does too!” Emma insisted, surprising even herself at her own boldness. “I know we can get out of this place, but we can’t just give up! We have to have hope!” 

More mutters rippled through the crowd, and for a moment, Emma was worried that she had just made a fool of herself. 

“Miss Woods is right!”

Emma turned towards the source of the voice, surprised that someone had spoken up yet relieved. Emily looked back at her, a small smile on her face.

“We can’t give up just yet.” 

“Well then, our original plan still stands,” Mike said, the friendly sparkle having returned back to his eyes. “I’ll check on Kreacher and Servais with the men, and Martha will take the women to go see Vera and Demi.”

Martha gave a curt nod in return and turned her attention back to the group she was leading. “We shouldn’t waste any more time.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding out whatever happened to Demi and Vera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the long awaited conclusion to the prologue is here! In all seriousness, this took me so long to finish because 1., school started and it is kicking my ass, 2., I hated how this chapter originally turned out and I spent a ton of time editing it, (it’s still not my favorite.) and 3., the next chapter is pretty long, so it took me a while to write. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, things start to get interesting in the next chapter, I promise!

The five women walked down the hallway in a cluster behind Martha and her trusty pistol. As much as she tried to appear undaunted by the possibility of finding Demi or Vera dead in their rooms, Emma couldn’t help but cling onto Emily as they walked down the hall. Her heart raced and she could feel her palms begin to sweat; the familiar knot in her stomach was ever-present, too.

“We’re here.”

The first room in the hall was Vera’s, which was distinguished from the rest of the rooms with both her sign and the pleasant aroma that drifted from underneath the door.

“I’ll knock a few times, and then...if it comes down to it, I’ll break down the door,” Martha said, a grave look on her face.

“Vera?” Martha knocked twice, the only response from the other side of the door a feeble moan. “Vera, we’re worried about you! It’s Martha!”

More unintelligible noises sounded from the room. The rest of the group gasped in union and exchanged worried glances.

“Don’t make me break down the door, Vera!”

This time, there was no response. Seconds passed, each one feeling like it dragged on longer than the last. Finally, they heard the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching the door. Martha choked up on the grip of her pistol, bringing it to her face.

“Y-You won’t need that gun, right Martha?” Tracy stammered.

“Those footsteps don’t sound like Vera’s,” Martha answered solemnly. “Worst case scenario, a man forced his way into Vera’s room, and--”

“ _What_ do you want?” Suddenly Vera’s door opened a fraction of an inch, and her very tired and very angry face poked through the crack.

“Vera! You’re alive!”

“Of course I’m alive, my God!” She shouted, exasperated. Steam was practically coming out of her ears, and her eyes had narrowed into tiny, angry slits. “I just wanted some goddamn rest!”

“I was just performing my moral duty to make sure you’re okay,” Martha responded, unfazed at Vera’s irate face mere inches from hers.

“Do you need anything from me? Or was this for no reason?” Vera spat.

“Well, now that you’re up, you should probably get breakfast,” Martha responded. “It ends in about an hour.”

“Oh my God,” Vera groaned. “Fine, fine. I’ll go eat breakfast, but when I come back to my door after I get dressed you guys better not still be here.” She then promptly slammed the door shut, almost crushing Martha’s fingers in the process.

“Well, the important thing is that Vera’s okay,” Martha said with a smile.

“I-If you say so…”

The group continued their long trek down the hallway to Demi’s room. The tension in the air had been relieved at least a little bit, and Emma didn’t feel the need to cling to Emily anymore while walking down the hall.

The atmosphere was still heavy, however, and after what felt like forever, they had arrived at Demi’s room.

Martha knocked on the door brazenly and with no hesitation. With her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side, she could see why Martha was given a gun. Emma wondered what exactly Martha’s occupation was. She assumed it was a position of authority.

Time time, however, there was no answer whatsoever from the other side of the door. No groans, no footsteps, no nothing. Radio silence.

“Demi? Are you alive?” She knocked again. “If you don’t answer us, we’re going to break down the door!”

_We? This is all Martha…_

“Just say something, and we’ll leave you alone!”

The rest of the survivors in the hallway exchanged uneasy glances with each other. Tracy had begun to bite her nails, and Emily had pulled her syringe from her satchel and begun to fiddle with it. Margaretha was silent and merely stared at the ground.

_Does she know something?_

“I’m going to count to five!” Martha declared from the hallway, her sentence punctuated with another harsh knock.

“Five! Four!”

_Please, Demi, just say something..!_

“Three..! Two...”

Emma had never seen a dead body before. If Demi really was dead in there, she wondered how she would react. She’d heard of some people throwing up, or some people even caressing the bodies. Emily had seen dead bodies before, she’d bet. Maybe she’d ask her about it, although she didn’t want to seem morbid--

“One!”

Martha lunged towards the door with her gun cocked and shoulders shielding her body. She was mere centimeters from ramming into the door when an arm reached out to stop her.

“Wait!” Emily rushed in front of Martha to stop the incoming onslaught on the door. “Shouldn’t we check to see if the door is unlocked, first?”

“I guess that’s the best course of action...it would be best to minimize damage, after all.” Her gloved hand reached for the doorknob, a slight tremor visible. Even Martha got nervous from time to time, she supposed.

To the group’s horror, the door was unlocked.

Emma closed her eyes shut as tightly as she could before Martha stepped into Demi’s room. She wasn’t ready to see a dead body yet! She was only 22, she hadn’t traveled anywhere yet, and she was probably still in college, for God’s sake! Weren’t there usually more steps to take in life before it got to this point?

“Demi?” Martha crept up to the lump covered by a comforter on Demi’s bed. A gloved finger was outstretched as if she was about to prod the figure covered in blankets. “Demi!”

“Wha...what the fuck?”

“You’re alive!”

“Why’re you all in my room?” Demi asked groggily. She had sat up on her bed and was covering herself with the comforter.

“You didn’t show up to breakfast, so we got worried,” Martha replied.

“Sure, but why the hell are you in my room?” This time Demi’s eyes were narrowed and her general confusion had morphed into annoyance.

“We tried calling for you, but you wouldn’t answer us. Plus, your door was unlocked,” She added.

“Well, I always have been a heavy sleeper,” Demi admitted.

“How the hell does anyone sleep through that..?” Margaretha grumbled under her breath.

“Must have been the Dovlin I drank last night,” Demi mused cheerfully. “That stuff’ll knock you out good.”

“U-Um...Demi?” Tracy peeked out from behind Emma to grab the older woman’s attention.

“Hm?”

“Are you...uh...w-wearing any clothes right now?”

Taking a second glance, Emma realized that under the comforter Demi did indeed look like she wasn’t wearing anything.

“This is my room, isn’t it? You guys were the ones who burst in here,” she retorted with a huff. “I’ll sleep however I damn well please.”

“S-so...that’s a no, then?”

Demi raised an eyebrow at Tracy and clutched the comforter closer to her chest. “What do you think?”

“W-Well then! Now that we know you’re okay, I think it’d be best if we left for now!” Martha sputtered. “Uh...the kitchen is open now, so...be sure to check it out when you’re ready. No rush!”

* * *

The rest of the first day was rather uneventful. After checking in on Demi and Vera, the female survivors met back up with the male survivors in the dining room. Luckily everyone was fine; Kreacher had overslept and Servais had simply opted to skip breakfast. Despite that good news, they had never actually finished their discussion about the room keys.

They were given the rest of the day to do as they pleased, as Miss Nightingale had said over another intercom announcement. Emma spent the remainder of her day hanging out with William and Tracy, or occasionally talking in the library with Emily, which she had found while exploring the manor.

At 7:00 pm, the majority of the survivors all met in the dining room once again for dinner.

“It’s like they restocked the whole kitchen!” William exclaimed in awe.

Almost everything that had been on the shelves at breakfast had been replaced. There was so much to choose from, and Emma had never even seen some of the food before in her life.

“Would anyone like me to make them my mother’s famous French onion soup?”

Emma turned around to see Servais standing at the front of the kitchen, addressing all of the other survivors.

“I promise, it’s delicious,” he assured. His grouchy and standoffish demeanor from last evening and this morning seemed to have disappeared, leaving in its place one that seemed eager to help. “This recipe has been passed down in our family for generations.”

Most of the other survivors seemed just as surprised at Servais’ sudden change in behavior as Emma was, but they accepted it nonetheless. Murmurs of agreement sounded throughout the kitchen, to Servais’ delight.

“Perfect! You’ll all try some, then?”

“Hold on!” A familiar nasally voice cut through the kitchen. “I won’t be having any.”

Servais rolled his eyes and scoffed. “And why would that be, Freddy?”

“How did you remember the recipe, if we’ve all supposedly lost our memories?” Freddy asked, an accusatory glare on his face.

“I received a letter with the recipe written on it along with some of my other belongings.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you get a recipe? Aren’t you a magician?”

Servais opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it once again. The man seemed to truly be at a loss for words.

“Ha!” Freddy laughed and pointed a finger at the tongue-tied magician. “God knows what this guy was trying to do to us.”

“Wait a minute, Mr. Reily!” Emma piped up. “I got a letter, too. I don’t know why, but it was from my father. Is it that unreasonable for Mr. LeRoy to have gotten a letter as well?”

“Thank you, Emma.” Servais nodded at the gardener and turned back to Freddy. “I promise I’m not going to try anything funny. I want to get out of here with all of you, just like the rest of us. I merely wanted to express my apologies for causing a panic this morning. If you want to watch me while I cook, then please, take whatever precautions you feel need to be taken.”

Freddy narrowed his eyes again but lowered his pointed finger. “If you say so. I’m still not having any soup, though. I can make my own damn dinner.”

“Now then, will the rest of you still be trying my soup?”

Murmurs of agreement rang through the cramped kitchen once more, causing Servais to smile and clap happily. “If that’s the case, would a few of you mind helping me with some preparations?”

William, Martha, Emma, and Emily all decided to assist Servais with his soup, although there wasn’t much that could be done to help him. The most any of them could do was offer to chop some vegetables or grab some bowls. For the most part, Servais seemed completely at ease in the kitchen. After about 15 minutes of bustle in the kitchen, Emma was practically salivating over the smell emanating from the pot on the stove.

“That should be enough everyone, thank you for the help,” Servais suddenly said from the stove.

“Are you sure this is all we can do to help?” Emily asked. “There seems to be quite a bit left to do…”

“Quite the contrary!” Servais exclaimed with a grin. “All that’s left to do now is to pour out everyone’s portions.”

“Sounds good, Servais!” William yelled from the back of the kitchen. “We’ll grab the bowls for you.”

A few minutes later, after the table had been set and the portions doled out, dinner was finally served. Everything looked so delicious Emma thought she might combust from excitement. Along with the Servais’ French onion soup, Martha, William, Emma, and Emily had worked hard to prepare a Caprese salad. Although it hadn’t taken much effort, it had been a struggle for William to cut the tomatoes properly, so all in all it had taken about twenty minutes to prepare.

“Your soup truly is delicious, Mr. LeRoy,” Antonio murmured from across the table. “Such a robust flavor would truly make it worthy to be tasted by the gods themselves.”

“Although I don’t know if I would say that much...it is worthy of its French moniker, in any case,” Joseph added.

“I’m glad you all are enjoying it.”

“Servais?” Kurt interrupted the silence at the table. “Would you mind grabbing me a spoon from the kitchen? It seems you’ve forgotten mine.”

“Oh, of course! I’m so sorry, Mr. Frank, I’ll get you one right away.”

The rest of dinner was relatively silent, save for the sound of 16 adults devouring their respective bowls of soup and Caprese salads. Emma had never tasted anything so good in her life, she thought. If Servais could cook this well, she would surely ask him to make them dinner more often.

Eventually, though, her pure bliss had to end. Sooner than she would have liked, Emma finished her bowl of soup and returned her dishes into the kitchen. She couldn’t find any designated spot for where they were supposed to put their dirty dishes when they were done with them, but breakfast and lunch had been automatically cleaned up for them afterward, so she assumed the same process would happen after dinner.

“Thank you for making us dinner, Mr. LeRoy, it was delicious,” Emma said as she passed Servais on her way exiting the dining room.

“It was no trouble at all,” he replied, a smile on his face. “I’m glad I got to share my mother’s recipe with you all. And I hope you all can forgive me for causing such a panic this morning.”

“Of course! It wasn’t a problem at all.”

Emma walked back to her room with a full stomach and a new sense of hope. All of the manor’s inhabitants seemed to be getting along better now, and time would only cause them to get along further. If they kept going at this rate, there was no way they couldn’t escape this manor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are much appreciated! :)
> 
> Translations for what Joseph, Vera, and Mike were saying:  
> *My God, look at all these people…  
> **I know, and they don’t look very nice. Look at that huge guy!  
> ***Hello! My name is Mike. Can I pet your dog, please?


End file.
